


Catch the Wind

by Vialana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Domestic Bliss, Klance Week 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vialana/pseuds/Vialana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith wakes up in his desert shack and everything is perfect.</p>
<p>For Klance Week 2016 on Tumblr<br/>Day 3 Prompt: Hell/Heaven</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Led Zeppelin song "What Is and What Should Never Be".

Keith woke to the familiar dry heat of his desert shack. The air tasted metallic and lay heavy over him. He pushed up from the worn couch, wincing as the material stuck to his bare skin. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it on, despite the heat. Something had woken him. It was just a shirt, not armour, but he felt less vulnerable when not half naked.

The front door rattled on its hinges as someone shoved against it. Keith was standing in a defensive position, hand seeking any available weapon in reach, as soon as the door slammed open and the intruder released a triumphant yell.

Keith relaxed when Lance poked his head around the doorway leading to the front hallway and grinned.

“Good, you're up. I mean, I got back in time anyway, but still.”

Keith frowned as Lance lugged a cooler through the main room towards the kitchen at the back of the house. He didn’t understand what was going on. “What are you doing?”

Lance didn’t stop tugging as he answered. “Putting the food away. Hunk’s coming over tonight, remember?”

Keith shrugged. He didn’t, but then everything in his head was a little jumbled at the moment. He was exhausted; his body felt like bruised lead. Still, It sounded plausible.

Keith yawned and stretched, trying to ease some of the stiffness. He shuffled over to the kitchen threshold and watched Lance bend over the cooler. Lance’s loose tank top flashed tantalising glimpses of soft brown skin as he moved. Keith tugged his own shirt down, pretending the brush of material over his skin caused the tingling sensation spreading through his lower abdomen.

He cleared his throat and leaned nonchalantly against the door frame. “Can I help?”

Lance stopped fussing with transferring the food in the cooler to the fridge and squinted at Keith. “Sure, but don't you want to catch Shiro’s call?”

Keith blinked. Shiro’s call?

Apparently his confusion was evident enough to worry Lance who stood up and moved over to him and rested the back of his hand against Keith’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay? I mean, you don't normally nap in the middle of the day but you've been up practically every night this week so I figured you needed it.”

Keith shrugged again, hoping his blush wasn’t noticeable. “Probably. My head's a little fogged up.”

“Here.” Lance moved back to the fridge. Keith caught the bottle of water that Lance threw towards him. “You’re probably dehydrated. I don’t want Shiro thinking I don't take care of you. He’d fly back from Cerberus against orders just to scold me in person. Drink.”

Keith shook his head at the ridiculousness of Lance's behaviour but he did drink the water. And he felt better. Not that he needed to tell Lance that.

Lance seemed to know anyway, eyebrows raised in a satisfied ‘I told you so’ arch. Keith, in a great show of restrained maturity, did not throw the water bottle back at Lance and instead settled for ignoring him and walking out of the kitchen.

He dropped down on the floor in the corner of the main room in front of the old radio cobbled together with whatever working parts Keith could find (and a few non working parts that Hunk had helpfully coaxed back to life).

He halted there, mind suddenly blank, and stared at the mess in front of him, unable to process exactly what he needed to do. Then he spotted the notepad with frequency calculations by the main power switch and everything came back to him.

Shiro – or more likely Commander Holt or his son – had provided the frequency ranges and times last time they talked for the best times to call over the next week while Cerberus was in an available part of its orbit.

Keith tuned in and waited, a soft wave of static filling the room. He finished the bottle of water and shuffled around to find a more comfortable position, snatching one of the cushions from the couch that Lance had insisted on to brighten the room up. They were soft and squishy and not neon green like Lance had first proposed; Keith didn’t object too much when they started appearing in the house. Lance was humming something in the kitchen, singing a few words as the urge came to him. Keith snickered as he heard Lance cry out. He'd probably stubbed his toe on the oven like he always did when he got carried away dancing to the songs in his head.

The static changed, sharp squeals cutting through the white noise and Keith turned up the volume and fiddled with some of the sound setting to clear up the channel.

“––ey, Kei–– ––ere? D–– ––py?”

“Shiro! Shiro, I’m here, I copy. Shiro!” Keith grabbed the mike to pull it closer even though it did nothing to amplify his voice or bring him closer to Shiro. He twisted a few of the knobs and kept a close eye on the frequency gauges.

Most of the noise and static was coming from Shiro’s end however and Keith couldn’t do much aside from making sure his end was as clear as possible.

“––eith? Can y–– ––ere me? Keith?”

“Shiro, yes, I can hear you. There’s still noise but I copy.” Keith had risen to his knees, hovering over the mess of electronics, his breathing shallow.

“––eith! Hey! I got though. It’s g–– to hear from y––”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Sorry about the noise. Inter––ence from a radiation ––orm. Wasn’t sure I’d ca–– ––ou.”

The signal was still weak and Shiro’s voice was half-drowned in loud white noise, but Keith didn’t care. It felt like years since he’d heard Shiro’s voice, though it had only been last week he’d contacted Earth. Keith tried once more the clean up the signal but winced when a high-pitched squeal was the only result of his fiddling.

“You still ––ere Keith?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I wanted to hear you properly. I’ll just have to deal with ringing ears for the rest of the day.”

Shiro laughed and Keith settled back down on his cushion with a smile to listen to Shiro’s updates about life in space.

  


***

  


The sun had only set an hour ago and the air was already cooling. Keith tugged his jacket on, a brisk gust of wind sending shivers through him, and moved his chair closer to the fire pit outside the shack.

Lance and Hunk barely seemed to notice the chill, laughing at an anecdote about a shared friend from their class at Galaxy Garrison. Keith could barely recall who they were talking about but he didn’t care. He was enjoying the talk and laughter and didn’t feel pressured to join in with stilted attempts at conversations about things he didn’t know or care much about.

It should have been a lonely thought, but Hunk had greeted him upon his arrival with a hug and genuine happiness and Lance would always catch his eye whenever he thought he was intruding on their reunion and smile, making him settle back down and refrain from excusing himself. Lance wanted him there. Hunk liked him. Neither of them wanted him to leave but they didn’t pressure him into joining the conversation if he didn’t want to. And whenever he did have a comment or a jab at Lance’s expense they greeted the words with acceptance and delight.

It was nice. Keith didn’t really like being alone, but not many people made the effort to understand that just because he didn’t talk often didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy company.

Looking across at Lance, watching the firelight play on his warm skin, Keith’s breath caught in his chest. He was suddenly so achingly happy that Lance was in his life. It was a familiar thought – it danced through his mind at least once a day. But the strength of feeling behind it always blew him away.

Keith was _happy_.

He sat in silence the rest of the night, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the breeze tangling his hair. His mind drifted, carried by his contentment and the joyful buzz of Lance and Hunk’s voices. Shiro’s voice joined the fray, tinged with the memory of that afternoon’s static. Others joined in, familiar but unidentifiable cadences. They wove around each other, rising and falling, speeding up and circling, calling his name in every shade of emotion.

… Keith? Keith?! _Keith_. Keith! _Keith!_ KEITH!

“Keith. Hey, wake up.”

Keith opened his eyes to see Lance hovering over him, that fond smile in place, his hands resting gently on Keith’s shoulders.

“Hey. Hunk just left. We didn’t want to wake you but it’s getting a bit cold now and the fire’s died down.”

Keith rubbed at his eyes and looked past Lance to see the pit full of embers now instead of flames.

“Thanks.” It was rather cold. He tugged his jacket closer.

Lance rubbed his hands down Keith’s arms as though to warm him up. Keith shivered at the touch, his gaze darting back to Lance’s face.

“Come to bed,” Lance said, pulling him up from his chair.

Keith let himself be led inside, staring as Lance’s hands traced down Keith’s arms and grasped Keith’s hands in his own. Lance was still warm from the fire. That warmth seemed to suffuse Keith through that touch, innocent and suggestive both at once.

The air inside the house was warm. The only sound was the tin percussion of the roof settling for the night. Keith felt like his heart was beating counter to the soft plinks of cooling metal, accelerating with the onset of night while the house settled towards cocooning silence.

They stopped at the threshold of the bedroom, the sudden stillness of both their bodies and surroundings amplifying the anticipation.

Lance turned to face Keith. He let their hands fall apart even as he slid one up to cup the back of Keith’s head, thumb tracing the hairline at the nape of his neck.

Keith’s lips parted in tiny gasp; his stomach muscles were taut, his back straight, his entire body was poised to move on the slightest signal.

The brush of Lance’s soft lips against his was not slight. He felt every nerve light up with the touch. His captured breath stuck in the back of his throat as Lance pushed closer, guiding Keith with the hand on his neck and the slick press of his lips.

Keith closed his eyes and lost himself in the kiss. His hands rose, cupping Lance’s hips, pushing his top away to rest against the silken skin that had fascinated Keith that afternoon.

Kissing Lance felt like embracing fire. The touch of his skin burned but Keith was drawn in by his warmth and light.

Lance broke away with a laugh when their noses brushed. “You’re like ice,” he whispered, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip Keith’s nose.

Keith scrunched his face up; that had tickled. He smiled up at Lance. “I thought that was your Lion.”

Lance pulled back a little, frowning. “What?” He stared at Keith, scrutinising his face for a long moment. Just before Keith could ask what was wrong, Lance shook his head. “Man, you’ve really been out of it today. C’mon. You need a proper night’s sleep.”

Lance pulled away, one hand tangling with Keith’s again but the gesture did not hold the same promise of passion as it did before. His touch was gentle and concerned as he pulled Keith’s jacket off and brushed his fringe out of his eyes.

Keith wasn’t disappointed that Lance had pulled back but he was unsettled.

Even after they climbed into bed and Lance had slid in behind him to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist in a familiar embrace, Keith couldn’t help but feel something was very wrong.

  


***

  


It was still dark when Keith woke, though the horizon was framed by a thin strip of grey twilight.

Lance had shifted as he always did in sleep, limbs spread everywhere. When Keith rose from the bed, it left a Keith-shaped hole next to Lance.

Keith paused to stare at the tableau before pulling on his clothes from yesterday and leaving the bedroom. He rubbed at his aching chest but didn’t turn around and climb back into bed. It was stupid to feel guilty; he wasn’t doing anything to feel guilty about.

But the feeling persisted as he walked into the main room and looked around for his research.

Abruptly, all thoughts of sleep and Lance and guilt faded from his mind.

He couldn’t find it. His notes, the charts and calculations, the maps – none of it was there.

Keith tore through the boxes in the corner opposite the radio. He upended the contents of the desk under the window. The cushions on the couch lay scattered on the floor as he dug through every crevice in the room for any scrap he could find.

He’d almost finished searching the kitchen by the time both the sun and Lance were up.

“Keith! What the hell did you do to the living room?”

Keith froze, head buried in one of the cupboards under the bench, then stood up and turned around.

Lance stood in the doorway to the kitchen, mouth open, eyes wide, begging for an explanation.

Keith stared at the blue robe falling off one of Lance’s bare shoulders and knew for sure that everything about this scenario was very wrong.

“Where is my research?” Keith’s voice was cold. He felt a tug of guilt as Lance took a step back at the tone but crushed that feeling. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“What research?” Lance shook his head and stepped forward again, a wavering smile pasted on his face. “I’m not mad, Keith. Just, tell me what’s going on.”

“Where is my research?” Keith repeated and was glad that Lance was suddenly glaring at him. It was easier to do this when Lance looked like he was about to punch Keith.

“There is no research. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The desert, the Lions. Why are we here, Lance? Why are you here?”

The colour drained form Lance’s face. “Do you not want me here?”

The crack in his voice as he asked this almost made Keith falter. But even that was wrong. “Why aren’t you at the Garrison?”

“I didn’t want to be there any more.”

“But why? You love flying.”

“You weren’t there.”

Keith felt bile rise in his throat. “You gave up your dream of being a fighter pilot because of me?”

“I’d give up anything for you.” The fond lovestruck look on Lance’s face suddenly seemed sinister and horrifying with that declaration.

“I’d never ask that of you. And you’d never do that.” Keith waved around himself, frantic and emphatic. “This would never happen.” He gestured between them. “ _We_ never happened. You weren’t here. Hunk never visited. _Shiro was declared dead!_ This was not my life – this is not my life!”

“Keith.” Lance stepped forward and Keith stepped back, hips pressing into the hard wood of the bench. If he pushed hard enough, would he bruise?

“Keith, please. Look at me.”

Lance was in tears. Keith looked down, heart pounding.

“I said look at me goddamn it!” Lance marched over to him and grabbed his chin and made Keith meet his gaze. Lance’s eyes somehow looked even more blue framed by tears. “Why are you doing this?”

Keith broke away without answering, doing his best not to touch Lance’s skin – still warm and creased from sleep. He pushed past Lance, evading his attempts to catch him, and ran out of the house.

The glint of sunlight reflecting off the polished metal of his speeder drew his gaze.

Keith climbed on and started it up. He pretended he couldn’t hear Lance calling out his name as he flew away, just as he pretended the wetness on his face was sweat from the already sweltering day.

  


***

  


The cave was exactly where he remembered – or thought he remembered. Keith’s head was still full of static and cotton and nothing since he’d woken up yesterday on the couch made sense. But the cave was exactly where his non-existent research and the memory of Hunk’s excited cries told him it was.

His hands scraped against the rough rock as he climbed down. He’d forgotten his gloves. Blood welled up from the shallow grazes and he winced at the pain caused by the abrasions. That felt real.

It didn’t stop him, though. He had to know.

The darkness of the cave swallowed him as soon as he stepped beneath the overhang. It was as though he’d stepped into a completely different place. The air was thicker and stale, that same metallic taste from yesterday coating his tongue. The answers had to be here.

Keith looked around as he walked further into the cave, scrutinising the walls.

No carvings adorned the stone.

He reached out to trail his hands over the rough walls, tracing patterns that seemingly only existed in his mind.

This wasn’t right. It wasn’t true. The carvings were real – they had to be!

“This isn’t real,” he said, slamming his palm against the wall. He felt the pain from his scratches but he didn’t care. He repeated the motion with both hands, punctuating each word with a slap, “It’s. Not. Real.”

The walls should be glowing, carved symbols and Lions lighting up blue. Instead, a smear of fresh blood was the only unnatural blemish marking stone.

Keith fell to his knees, hands sliding down the wall leaving a red trail.

“This isn’t real,” he whispered one last time to himself, desperate to believe. No one responded.

Keith let himself cry.

  


***

  


In his mind, Keith heard Lance calling his name, the smell of last night’s fire sharp in his memory. The other voices joined in. Hunk and Shiro. Pidge. Allura. Coran. The static grew louder. Keith opened his eyes.

The floor of the cave was glowing blue.

Keith looked around. The world seemed to be wavering, the walls of the cave pulsing and the air splitting to let light break through.

Keith didn’t hesitate; he punched through the wall of the cave, his hand not actually touching stone.

The illusion shattered.

Glass broke. Liquid surrounding him drained away. He choked on air, sweet and light, the taste of metal thick in the back of his throat. His fist rested in the gloved palm of someone else.

Keith opened his eyes.

Lance stood in front of him, framed by broken glass. The white of his Paladin uniform looked purple under the Galran light. His eyes were just as blue as Keith remembered.

The grip on his fist loosened and Lance twisted their hands so he could lace their fingers together and pull Keith free of the pod that had held him captive in his own mind for god knows how long.

Keith had enough energy to duck the broken glass bat practically collapsed into Lance’s embrace when he was finally free and standing on his own right. Lance hesitated only an instant before embracing Keith in a tight grip. Keith clung to Lance with as much strength as he could muster.

“Thank god,” Lance said, voice quiet and reverent. “We thought we lost you.”

Keith felt breath of air brush his ear as Lance exhaled and he shivered at the sensation.

Lance pulled away, still holding on to Keith so he wouldn’t fall down. “We have to get you out of here. You’re freezing and who knows what they did to you in that thing.” Lance glared over Keith’s shoulder at the pod.

Keith didn’t want to see it ever again and kept his eyes on Lance. “Thank you,” he said, voice raspy and low.

Lance’s gaze snapped back to him and he straightened up with a cocky grin. “Hey, we’re a team right? Leave no man behind and all that jazz.” Before Keith could say anything else, he squeezed Keith’s shoulders and let his hands fall. “Come on, the distraction will only last a few more minutes then we’ll have to run like hell. You up for that?”

Keith straightened up himself and returned Lance’s grin, already feeling better. “Always.”

“Good.” Lance reached down to grab Keith’s hand and started running, trusting Keith would keep up.

Keith only squeezed Lance’s hand and ran at his side, more than ready to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr under [ladyvialana](https://ladyvialana.tumblr.com/)


End file.
